


Guillotine

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Inspired by Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8678704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: Whatever they are, they're frightening, but he likes them all the same.

Keith figures out his feelings and lets Lance know, little by little.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this lovely comic](https://twitter.com/Elentori/status/798616508968505344) by [Elentori](https://twitter.com/Elentori). Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> \--

It's hard to say for certain when it starts. Things between them change in an instant, though it is impossible to pinpoint. He and Lance drift together in a way Keith cannot explain, a way he can scarcely understand. What starts as irritation and annoyance fades and returns as something very different, like the ebb and flow of an earthly tide. He can feel himself growing fond, and it takes a while, but Lance eventually figures it out. More than fearing rejection, Keith worries that Lance will want something he can't give him, something he's not prepared for. 

He doesn't, though. Rather, Lance seems more than satisfied with casual contact, with someone to lean on and lie beside and occasionally tease. It only makes Keith adore him more, but he keeps those feelings to himself. At least until he figures them out.  

Whatever they are, they're frightening, but he likes them all the same. 

\--

As weeks creep by in the depths of space, Keith is certain of only a few things. He knows he is where he belongs, that Zarkon must be defeated and the universe protected, and that the other paladins were always meant to be his family. He is also increasingly sure that he is supposed to be by Lance's side, even if he's still not certain of what that means. 

There is a light that emanates from within Lance, like a lantern in his chest. The longer they are away from earth, the more Keith can see it dimming, Lance's warmth fading. It's when he feels the need to protect that glow, to be the one who keeps it alight that he realizes just how much Lance means to him. 

Wrapping arms around Lance from behind one evening, he presses his hands to where he imagines the light to shine from, pulling Lance into a hug and holding him. There is no insistence, no possession in his touch. There is only a promise, an offer to stay, and Lance wordlessly takes it as he clasps his own hands over Keith's. 

They stay that way until Coran calls them to dinner, and for the rest of the evening Lance smiles, and Keith can feel his warmth again. 

\--

Once they begin sharing a bed, they seldom sleep alone. Lance is glad for the contact, the company, and Keith is happier with Lance tucked under his arm, even when the time they spend together is less about cuddles than confessions.

“I'm terrified,” Lance admits to him, one night. It's late and they both ache bone-deep from a hard day of training and an unexpected mission, and maybe it's the exhaustion that loosens his lips. Regardless of why, he crawls up the bed and lays himself across Keith, on top of him so that his face is mostly buried in the crook of Keith's neck. With his arms wound loosely around Keith's neck and breath hot across his ear, he spills more of his secrets. 

“I'm scared I'll never see my family again. I'm scared I'll never be the hero I'm supposed to. I'm scared that…” He trails off, and Keith wraps an arm around his waist in a silent effort to reassure him. He needs Lance to know it's okay to talk, so he listens. Just listens. Lance exhales, his breath shaking, or maybe he himself is shaking as he finishes his thought. “I'm always scared something will happen, and whatever I said to you last will be… the last thing I ever get to say.”

There's a pause as Keith processes his words. He drags fingers up Lance's side and back down again, never moving them so far that Lance can't feel him there, anymore. When Keith's thoughts are finally collected, he draws a breath to speak, and Lance shudders with relief at the sound, waiting. 

“Is there anything you need to say, then?” Keith asks, choosing his words carefully. He keeps his hand steady on Lance's back. “Because you know we never know what's gonna happen, and I can't change that for you. But… We can change things with ourselves. With us.”

For a moment it seems that Lance is backing down, afraid to push an already touchy subject any further than they already have. It's become commonplace, the two of them spending their downtime this way, wrapped up in one another. Never before now has he let himself speak so freely to Keith, though. Never has he let himself be held this way. 

Perhaps that is what bolsters him, and he puts his trust in Keith, at least enough to say what he needs to. He drags his nose along Keith's jaw in a sleepy attempt at an affectionate gesture, and clears his throat, just to be sure his words aren't wasted. “I love you.”

It takes a few seconds for Keith to realize the weight of what he's just heard. Lance raises his head, crossing his arms over Keith's chest so he can rest his chin on them, looking at Keith with tired eyes. It's not a look of expectation; rather, he just wants to  _ look _ at Keith, just wants to  _ see _ him, and that alone shakes Keith as deeply as the words still hanging in the air. 

He looks back at Lance, raising his hand to rake through soft, brown hair. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Lance hums. “Just need you to know that.”

Keith nods, a tiny movement hampered by their position, but neither is of any mind to move. Keith studies Lance's face, his eyes tracing invisible lines between the freckles splashed across smooth, brown skin. They stand out like stars, in different sizes and shades, and something about that seems so appropriate for a person like Lance. His eyes flutter closed as Keith's fingers return to his hair and he exhales, relaxing against him. 

“I'm glad I know,” Keith says at last, and that's all. He doesn't offer a likewise reply, doesn't try to explain to Lance that he isn't sure yet. To his great surprise, Lance doesn't press him. He drops his face back down to rest beside Keith's ear and sighs, a happy, sated sound as he begins to drift off to sleep, content where he lay. 

“Me too,” he murmurs, and then there is silence, save for the sounds of sleep.

\--

Things aren't much different after Lance speaks those words. He doesn't say them again, and maybe that's just because he knows he doesn't need to. Keith can hear them in the way Lance speaks to him, every day. 

“I'm gonna hang my coat in here, okay?” he says, opening the door to Keith's closet one afternoon. He stops for a moment and looks at the empty bar, down at the floor where Keith's sparse possessions are piled, and then back at Keith. “Looks like you have room to spare.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, because he's not sure what else  _ to _ say. Lance's quip is worded like an insult, a taunt that ought to sting but doesn't. His voice is warm and almost concerned, and Keith can't argue with a fact, anyway. He really doesn't have much. 

“We’ll fill it up together,” Lance says, moving to sit beside Keith on the bed. Keith hasn't said a word about his own empty closet but Lance seems to know, all the same. His response isn't an offer but a promise, a vow to fill the dark, empty spaces in Keith's life with light. 

Keith nods, letting Lance settle beside him. 

“Sounds like a plan.” It isn't one. They haven't made any; Keith doesn't even like the thought of it. With Lance though, he wonders if maybe one day, he might. 

\--

The closet in their shared space may be almost empty, but Lance’s walls are not. Using leftover materials Pidge is glad to part with, he decorates them with stars he fashions himself, an odd way to remind himself of home despite already being surrounded by more stars than he could count. He tells Keith about the little plastic stars on the walls in his childhood bedroom, about the beaches he played on and the friends he had growing up, and about the first times he heard the songs he still sings and the music he dances to, even all these years later. All of it is unnecessary, inconsequential information, but Keith breathes it in like oxygen, living for every word of it. 

It all makes him feel closer, more connected to Lance, and even if he isn't ready to give what they have a title, it's still very much the best chapter of his life so far. 

So Lance talks beneath a backdrop of shimmering stars, fixed to every wall that surrounds them as they drift off to sleep. He talks, he sings, he reminisces, and Keith listens. Before long, he wonders how he ever slept without that soft, sleepy voice in his ear, lulling him into dreams of its source. 

In the middle of one such dream - a peaceful scene, with Lance at his side and no pressing universe protection matters to attend to - Keith is awoken one night by restless rustling. Beside him, Lance kicks the covers down, shaking his head as he buries his face in open palms. Keith sits up as well, a hand gently trailing over Lance’s shoulder and down his back, waiting for an explanation. He knows to expect one, but only when Lance is ready to offer it. 

“Nightmare,” Lance says after almost no time at all. His voice is still thick with sleep, and rough around the edges in a way that it seldom is upon waking peacefully in the mornings. Keith scoots closer, drapes an arm solidly over his shoulders and settles in to listen. Lance breathes deeply and sighs, his head tilting to the side to rest against the top of Keith's. 

“It started out good. We got back to earth, universe was all done bein’ defended. We were heroes, and I…” Lance bumps his hand against Keith's, squeezing when Keith threads their fingers together. “I couldn't wait to have you meet my family. I knew they'd love you. But when we got there, they were gone. Everyone. Everyone I loved was gone. Everyone...” His voice gets higher, tighter, then trails off entirely for a moment before he finally manages to finish his thought, shoulders shaking with the effort to speak without crying. “Everyone except for you.” 

There is silence for a few seconds, then. Keith doesn't ask for more details of the dream, because he knows he’ll hear them at some point. It isn't important, for the time being. Instead, he squeezes Lance's hand in return, intent on helping him move past the terrors of his dreams, and get through one more night, light years from home. 

It isn't Keith's intentions that surprise Lance, or even the fact that he moves to his sock-clad feet, in the middle of their bed. It's when he extends a hand, reaching down to pull Lance up after him and asks him for a dance that Lance is taken aback. They both know he’ll tease Keith for such a silly idea later, but in the moment, nothing feels more natural. 

“I thought you didn't know how to dance,” Lance says, the beginning of a smirk playing at his lips. Keith shrugs. 

“Can't be too hard, if you're so good at it.” 

At that, Lance laughs, soft and almost soundless but it's definitely there. “Remind me to fight you when I'm more awake,” he says, and before Keith can promise to do so, he’s being pulled forward for Lance to take hold of. 

Keith really  _ doesn't _ know how to dance, but the tune Lance elects to sing for them is slow and forgiving of his lack of rhythm. Lance slides a hand around to rest on Keith's back, warm even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The other holds Keith's own hand, out and away from them, and Keith suddenly remembers every military formal and middle school social dance he'd ever been dragged to, and distantly muses on just what he's been missing it on, all this time. With his forehead pressed to Lance’s, he smiles wide and unashamed as Lance dips him gently backward. It's just a shallow bend at the knee between bars of hushed song, but it feels like Keith's world is suddenly tilted onto the axis it was always meant to spin on. 

When Lance gives him a sweet, sleepy grin, Keith knows that his plan for pleasant distraction has worked. They dance a few more numbers, clutching hands and shoulders in the middle of the bed in their starlit room before finally settling back beneath the covers. 

“Thank you,” Lance breathes, as he rests his head on Keith's chest and hums, relaxed and unafraid. The rhythm of Keith's breathing and the beat of his heart offers him a lullaby better than any Keith could sing, and he's soon asleep, breath coming deep and even as Keith joins him shortly after. 

The metal stars on the walls continue shimmering as he returns to dreams of a world that doesn't scare either of them, anymore. 

\--

Keith can't always be there to protect Lance when he wants to, and regardless of how seriously he takes that disappointment, it becomes a running joke amongst their teammates. 

“You just want to take Keith with you because you love him,” Pidge taunts, and when Hunk snorts and Allura giggles, even Shiro laughs at them. Keith feels heat rise in his cheeks at what really ought to be a harmless joke, because for him, it really  _ isn't _ . 

Lance  _ does _ love him, he knows. Maybe that is why he wants Keith along for the ride on their mission for the day, or maybe he just remembers how well they work as a pair, now that they aren't busy fighting all the time. Perhaps it's a little of both, and either way it's none of anyone else's business. Pidge doesn't know she's hit a nerve with him though, and Lance does little to soothe the burn by shrugging off the comment, so Pidge takes it further. 

“But does  _ he _ love you? That's the real question.” She looks over at Keith with a mischievous grin and every other eye in the room lands on him as well, and suddenly the floor feels like it's giving out beneath him. 

_ I might. Maybe. I think.  _ Keith's thoughts spin and he feels dizzy trying to grab hold of any one of them, just long enough to say something. Lance doesn't give him a chance, nor anyone else a chance to press him to. He replies for both of them. 

“Nah. The real question is, why are you so jealous of me and Keith?” He asks, ruffling Pidge’s hair in exactly the way she she hates. “I know we're fine as hell, but you gotta control that jealousy. Ain't healthy, Pidge.” He winks in her direction and she fumes at him, and then the exchange is over as Shiro sends them off to their lions. Keith does trail after Lance, and once they're out of orbit and eyesight of the castle Lance is in his ear, chattering like nothing happened. 

Keith can't shake the sting, though. It's all he thinks about the entire time they're working, flying so poorly that Lance can't help making fun of him for it. Keith doesn't hear him; his own thoughts are far too loud. Pidge’s question bounces off the walls of his brain, echoing down halls he's afraid to walk down.  _ ‘Does he love you?’  _ the voice calls, and he can't bring himself to answer. 

Of every frightening, alien thing they've encountered beyond earth's atmosphere, he can't bring himself to admit that the scariest thing he can imagine is letting himself love Lance in return. 

It doesn't stop Lance from loving him, though. Keith thanks whatever god may be listening for that as they return from the day's mission, and Lance drags him back to their shared bedroom. He's content to spend the evening talking, touching, holding one another, but Keith is restless. 

His chest is full to bursting and he needs to free himself of the weight, to be able to breathe again. There's more than enough room for both of them on the bed, but it feels cramped. He's drowning in something he's too afraid to put a name to. 

Keith swallows, going quiet in the middle of a quiet conversation. Maybe he isn't ready to say it, but he  _ feels _ it, and he needs Lance to feel it too. Everything seems to go still around them as he fumbles forward, hands outstretched to clutch at whatever part of Lance he can reach. A hand comes out in return to steady him, finds its way to his shoulder and holds onto him as he lets himself close the gap between them. With Lance's other hand at the small of his back and Keith's own hands clinging to Lance's clothes, he presses their lips together and almost sobs. 

They're all moving hands and slick, sliding mouths for a moment as Keith gasps between kisses. Like the first drink after a fast, he hadn't known how parched he was for the touch of Lance's lips to his until he has them, and he can't be bothered with words or steady breathing as he drinks his fill of the moment. Lance is happy to pour himself out, movements slower and steadier than Keith's as he parts his lips and invites Keith to deepen the kiss. Keith takes the initiative, tastes traces of sweetness and mint on Lance’s tongue and sighs into his mouth, only breaking apart from him when his smile grows too wide for kissing. 

“You taste good,” Keith says, breathless. It isn't what he needs to say, but Lance understands, all the same. He nods, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, savoring the taste of Keith still on his lips. 

“You too,” he agrees. Keith's heartbeat hiccups, suddenly racing at the realization that Lance loves this as much as he does, fluttering at the knowledge that Lance loves  _ him. _ He leans forward for another kiss, not sure that he’ll ever get enough, and Lance slides hands down his shoulders and sides, slow and careful. 

Keith still can't say the words that he needs to, is still frightened of the sound of them and the weight that they carry. But he presses them into Lance's lips, smooths them over his chest and up the back of his neck as he closes fingers there and kisses him again and again, hoping Lance can feel the familiarity and fondness in his every move. He prays that Lance knows, so he won't have to tell him. 

Something in the way that Lance pulls Keith against him that night tells him that he does.

\--

Sleep gets harder, after that. 

Every night is the same; Lance sprawls across the bed and sleepily chatters until Keith curls against him, prompting him to quiet down. They trade slow, sweet kisses until someone says goodnight, and then they slip into dreams, arms slung over stomachs, chests or backs. Everything is perfect, but it doesn't last. 

When Keith awakens from his own bad dreams, he doesn't jolt into alertness the way that Lance does. He blinks into the darkness, mind still shouting out the closing window of his consciousness.  _ You don't deserve him, _ it calls, repeating itself over and over. Keith slips from his place beneath Lance's arm and sits up, rubbing hard at his temples. His stomach churns as he tries to ignore the fact that he agrees entirely with the voices in his dreams. 

Keith really doesn't deserve him, or rather, Lance deserves something other than him. He deserves better. He deserves honesty. He deserves love. 

Choking on a silent sob, Keith feels tears well in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks without a sound. It is so quiet in their shared space, he really should hear the bed and blankets shift behind him, but he doesn't hear a sound until he feels warm arms curling around his waist. 

Lance doesn't ask what's wrong, right away. He presses a kiss to the back of Keith's neck, and waits. Closing his eyes and leaning against Keith's back, it seems he might be content to keep waiting, all night if Keith needs him to. He hums a song, missing a note here and there to draw a long, sleepy breath. 

Keith listens until he memorizes most of the melody and can hum along. He refuses to let Lance carry the load of calming him, alone. He won't make him wait any longer. 

“I love you,” he says. Lance goes still, like he's not certain if he heard Keith correctly. “I love you,” Keith repeats, and pulls Lance's arms tighter around him. Lance starts to say something, but Keith turns his head, twists at his waist to catch Lance's lips, and then there's nothing that needs saying. 

There is only the two of them, mouths too busy for words.

Keith lays back, finally putting his trust in Lance as he free falls. The arms that wind around his neck weigh heavily against him, hold him in place like the stocks of a guillotine. For once in his life though, he is not afraid. He bares his neck and closes his eyes, his full faith resting in Lance's hands along with his head, safe on his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he says again, just to hear it in his own voice once more. The blade of the guillotine never falls. There is only the soft press of Lance's lips to the top of Keith's head, and a content sigh. 

They drift off to sleep together, two people sharing one very comfortable love. Neither has nightmares that evening. There are only dreams of the future, happy plans that Keith is finally content to imagine. 


End file.
